


our war was in color

by girl0nfire



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Inspired by Art, Steve Rogers Feels, War flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl0nfire/pseuds/girl0nfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve sorts through the artifacts of his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our war was in color

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this graphic](http://themaddestofthemad.tumblr.com/post/33218034161/a-photograph-of-bucky-barnes-and-steven-rogers-i) made by a friend on Tumblr.

It’s a good thing, Steve thinks, that a lot of people don’t get the opportunity to go through their own belongings after they’ve died.

As he pulls item after item from the water-stained cardboard box, it’s a little strange for him to see just what other people thought was important about his life. There’s a lot of paper, at lot of memorabilia, and not as much color as he remembers. Not that Steve Rogers was a man who spent any time considering his legacy, but if he had… Well, he would have hoped someone would have taken the time to remember who he was, not just who he became.

He gently unrolls one of the old tour posters and spreads it out on the table in front of him, his own bleach-white smile beaming back at him, one gloved hand raised in a cheerful salute, ready to “sock ol’ Adolph on the jaw”. There he is, all laid out in red-white-and-blue, Captain America ready to lead the charge.

But that’s not his war; that’s not how he remembers. 

Slowly, the box empties, black-and-white posed photographs and mission rosters, postcards, sketchbooks. Finally, Steve reaches into the box and finds that his fingertips brush the bottom, his entire past laid before him in neat piles. He lifts the box from his lap, ready to set it on the floor and begin his journey backwards, but as he does, a rumpled bit of paper falls loose from where it had been caught beneath one of the flaps on the bottom of the box.

It’s a photograph, its sepia tones nearly blending it into the dark cardboard surrounding it.

With careful fingers, Steve lifts the creased square from the box, tilting it in the light to get a clearer view. He’s looking at himself; dirty, exhausted – flanked by Bucky and the rest of the pride of the 107th, every man who had fought tooth and nail to drag their way out of that HYDRA base and back to their camp. 

Now, this is how he remembers. Steve remembers the long slog through freezing forest, remembers watching Bucky nearly dead on his feet, his harsh breath rising in sharp clouds as he wiped a hand across his ear and brought back blood. Remembers standing in a crowd of men who owed him no thanks for their own bravery as they shouted his name.

Steve turns the photograph over in his hands, finding a tidy, cursive inscription on the back:

_Captain Steven G. Rogers and Sergeant James B. Barnes returning with nearly 300 men of the 107th Regiment recovered from detainment._

_Thank you, Captain America_.

He’d recognize this hand writing anywhere. It’s Peggy’s.

Turning the photograph over again, Steve can tell by the smoothness of its edges and the well-worn creases that had been carried, for a long time, in a pocket or bag. Someone cared enough to take this token with them, to keep it safe and secret through a war and the difficult peace that followed.

Someone cared enough to leave it for him. Someone believed enough to leave it for him, with a fool’s hope that he would be around again to see it.

Peggy believed.

Steve slides the photograph gently into the front pocket of his shirt, over his heart. This is the only memory he needs.


End file.
